


Anything for love (and cuddles)

by masongirl



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: Accidents, Affection, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Ice Cream, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masongirl/pseuds/masongirl
Summary: In the middle of a blizzard on Christmas Eve, George goes out to get Ben & Jerry's for his boyfriend.
Relationships: Carwood Lipton/Ronald Speirs, George Luz/Eugene Roe
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Anything for love (and cuddles)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fromcrossroadstoking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromcrossroadstoking/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, lovelies! I hope you all have a fabulous day. 
> 
> This is a present for my friend, C. :)

George is impersonating a starfish in the middle of their bed, so seductive that he could practically be a Bond girl if he does say so himself. Today was his first day off during the holidays and it left him in a cuddly mood. All day, he's been waiting for Gene to come home from the hospital and curl up with him under the duvet. They had dinner half an hour ago, so all he needs now is for Gene to take a shower. But instead of the sound of running water, he hears a noise from the direction of the coat rack. His head snaps up.

“What are you doing?” He calls out, then drops back down to the mattress. No need to overexert his abs.

“Nothin’.” Gene’s smooth voice echoes in the hall. His keys jiggle. George frowns and pushes himself up with great flourish.

“You said you would be just a minute.” He complains and shuffles out of the bedroom in his striped PJs, pouting. When he sees that Gene’s wearing his coat, a wave of fear spikes in his heart. “Gene?”

The flush that takes over Gene’s pale cheeks looks a little reassuring. “Go to sleep, _mon chou.”_

George makes a face at the endearment. He regrets the day he asked Gene what it meant. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To the corner store.” Gene mumbles, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“At 9pm?” George asks incredulously. “For what?”

In the dim light streaming in from the living room, Gene's gaze holds the dark determination of a desperate man. “For ice cream.”

If George heard that right, he's probably in a weird dream that will leave him hungry in the morning. He raises his eyebrows. “Ice cream.”

“Yes.” Gene replies defiantly. “I need it.”

“There's a blizzard outside.” George paints out the obvious. After a sixteen-hour shift, Gene's not the most rational person, but this tops the cake. “You can’t go out in that. It's the 24th, store’s closed anyway.

On the verge of tears, Gene looks like a miserable puppy. “It’s the only thing I crave.”

They stare at each other for a long beat, but as always, George loses the stare down.

“Fuck.” He mutters and stomps off towards the bedroom for a pair of normal pants. Out of spite for the whole thing, he leaves the lame pyjama top on and covers it with the gaudy sweater Malarkey bought him last year.

“I didn't ask you to come.” Gene grumbles. He sounds angry, and that pisses George off.

“No Gene, but you're so tired you can barely stand, I gotta take you.”

“I’ll walk.”

“In a blizzard?!”

Gene gives him an insulted look. He tears his coat off his shoulders and makes a passive-aggressive show of hanging it back in its place. “You know what, just forget it. I’ll get some tomorrow."

Oh, but George isn't to be deterred now. He's not going to be the bad guy, hell no. “You made me dress up so now I’m going.”

Gene curls up on the couch and fixes the TV with a sulking look. “Suit yourself.”

So, in the middle of a blizzard at 9pm on Christmas Eve, George goes out to get Ben & Jerry's for his boyfriend. Just what he wanted to do tonight. Splendid. He fights his way through the gales blowing needle-sharp flakes into his eyes, hops in his car and starts off in the direction of the corner store, at the off chance that it's still open. The snow falls in thick flakes that completely obscure his vision as he tries to see through the frozen windshield.

This is the point where he should admit defeat and trudge back up to their apartment. Gene must have regretted his insensible behaviour by now, right? He'd apologise and then George would say he's just as sorry, and then they could cuddle. _But,_ he thinks with a spark of fire igniting in his chest, _what if he did get that ice cream?_ The chocolate fudge brownie flavour Gene's obsessed with. George imagines Gene's smile, the surprise, happiness and love radiating from it, and he steps on the gas more confidently. He gotta get that stupid dessert.

The corner store's windows are dark and the door is shut, so the closest big chain store it is. He can't quite believe it either, but he finds one that's still open near the hospital Gene works at. It's ten minutes until closing time when he rolls into the parking lot and five when he finally finds the last pint of the treasure he's looking for among an endless ocean of the abhorrent Great Value vanilla bean. He cradles that ice cold tub to his chest and goes to the checkout lane. It's only there that he realizes he left his wallet in the car. He feels prickling embarrassment on the back of his neck as he fishes through the pockets of his coat for a few crumpled bills. He tries to joke it off, but the cashier just gives him a nasty look and mutters 'merry Christmas' like a curse.

It takes two tries to start his beat-up car, but he's too relieved now to let it dampen his mood. Just a few minutes and he'll be back home with a very, very grateful Gene. What could go wrong?

Everything, it turns out.

The blizzard hasn't let up since he warned Gene not to go out, far from it - the roads are covered in a thick layer of snow that melts into slippery ice under his tires. The wind is strong enough to topple a couple of trash bins over and roll them down the sidewalk, and the driving conditions are absolutely hazardous. George leans as far forward in his seat as he can, but his sight cannot pierce the white blur that surrounds him from all directions.

"Ah!" He exclaims when his car slides out of its lane on the glossy, slippery surface. "Fuck!"

He hits the brakes and swerves frantically to get back on track, but he overcompensates and can't stop the vehicle before it collides head on with a large heap of snow on the side of the road. The engine dies and everything goes quiet.

"Christ." George sighs in relief. He's fine and the car can't be that badly damaged, he slowed down after all. He turns the ignition key.

Nothing happens.

"No, no, no, you can't do this to me." He whines to his stupid, useless car, but it refuses to stir back to life. It must have decided it's too fucking cold to move in this terrible weather.

He reaches for his phone, but when he goes to switch it on, the screen stays black. It's dead. It might have been useful if he actually put it on the charger when he realized it was on 10%... Fuck it. Now what? There's another surprise waiting for him when he tries to open his door and it doesn't budge. He tries the other side - nothing. Why did he lock them when he sat in? They're probably frozen.

Just when he's about to bang his head on the wheel in frustration, the glow from a pair of headlights appears in the rear view mirror. The slower the approaching car gets, the greater his hope becomes. Is this what they call a Christmas miracle? There is a smile on his face when the vehicle stops right behind his car, but his expression quickly turns into dread. The man who steps out of it walks strangely. He has that dangerous, emotionless aura movie villains possess sometimes. There's a knit hat on his head, pulled so low that only his dark eyes and pursed lips are visible under it. And when George gets a look at the guy's impassive expression, his blood runs cold. Is he going to be murdered tonight?

The man knocks on his window. George has been watching him the whole time, but the sound still scares him.

“Need some help?” The guy yells, cupping his hands around his face to see the inside of George's car better.

Despite his fear, George nods. The man steps back, assesses the situation, then starts shovelling the snow around George's door with his arms. That calms George somewhat. After all, serial killers prefer easy targets, right? They wouldn’t freeze their hands off just to get someone like him. Helpless to do anything but watch, he waits. There is no sign of the guy tiring, but suddenly, the passenger side of his car opens. Another man climbs out, somewhat sturdier than the first, and walks up to them. He gives the first man an exasperated look, then smiles at George through the glass. “Don't worry, Ron and I will get you out." He coughs into his elbow. "I'm Carwood.”

“George.”

The second man, Carwood, had the forethought to bring an actual shovel and a snow scraper, but that Ron guy takes them out of his grip. His eyes shoot lightning bolts at George's car. That sets Carwood right off. He puts his hands on his hips and starts a tirade, scowling. George can't hear them, but they are obviously fighting. And the reason is pretty clear. Whenever Carwood tries to reach for the shovel or the car door, Ron pushes him away. At one point, Ron stops to take off his own scarf and wraps it around Carwood's neck and mouth, making him look like he's about to take off towards the Antarctic.

Some five minutes later, it's the ice scraper that saves George's ass. Ron wrenches the door open and steps back to let George reveal himself and the Ben & Jerry's sitting in the seat beside him. It's one of the most embarrassing moments of his life - and it's not over yet. That Ron guy calls him a tow truck, but they won't come for the car until the morning, so George will have to leave it by the side of the road tonight. Not that anyone would steal it for the metal in this weather, but it still makes George uneasy. He kicks the heap of snow he crashed into and sighs. What a night.

“Where do you live?” Ron asks him without preamble, and his voice sounds snappish. His chin is dipped down, probably to shield his bare neck from the chill, but it makes him look even more threatening. Does he realize he gives off major serial killer vibes?

Carwood coughs again and weaves one of his arms around Ron's. “What he means to say is that we can give you a lift.”

George tightens his bare fingers around the ice cream and considers his options. He's not likely to find another ride any time soon... What convinces him eventually is the way Ron moves his free hand to wrap it around the fingers his boyfriend - husband? - has around his elbow. A violent kidnapper wouldn't be so nice, would he?

George gives in. “Thanks, I’d appreciate that.”

The strange couple's car is actually equipped with tire chains and the seats are so warm and comfortable that George is tempted to ask them to let him stay until his frozen insides can thaw a little. He must look batshit crazy in his ugly sweater and the striped pyjama shirt that isn't quite covered around the collar, holding a tub of ice cream while it's the freakin' North Pole outside. Thank God that these guys took pity on him tonight.

“Where were you headed?" Carwood asks once the extra scarf is off his neck. "It's better not to be out and about in this weather if you can help it.”

George almost blushes. His reasons sound absolutely idiotic in retrospect. “I wanted to buy ice cream for my boyfriend. He's a surgeon and… that was the only thing he needed.”

Ron scoffs, as if in agreement with George's inner thoughts. Yeah, it was a stupid reason. Nevertheless, Carwood turns to smile at George. “That's sweet. You must love him very much.”

“I do.” George smiles back. He likes this man - he seems like someone he'd befriend easily. Now, Ron, on the other hand… “What about you?”

“Oh, just had to run an errand.” Carwood waves his hand dismissively.

Ron gives him a dark look that's visible even from the backseat. “We have just left the hospital. He's got pneumonia.”

George can see that Carwood's eyes close for a second. Upon second glance, the hue of his skin does look a bit sallow. “I _do not_ have pneumonia. I'm recovering from it. And I wasn't hospitalized, it was only a check-up. He just overdramatizes it.”

Even before Ron opens his mouth, George has the feeling that he's third wheeling in a full-blown marital fight. All he wanted this Christmas Eve was a nice, prolonged makeout session with his adorable boyfriend, then to sleep in the next morning. But no, that must have been too much to ask for. Or maybe he's been cursed, and that's why he's in a stranger's bigass black car listening to him snarl at his spouse like a pissed-off grey wolf.

“Why do you always downplay your problems?”

“I'm not downplaying it." Carwood throws back just as much heat as he receives. "You're overprotective.”

“Me? You are completely -”

“This is it, my place.” George interjects as they reach his street. Thank God for small mercies.

That puts an end to the budding fight, but the tension is still crackling in the air. They take him as close to the apartment building's entrance as possible, and even wait for him to check if he has his keys. It's enough time for Ron to do a full 180 and go silent as a grave, staring through the window opposite where George's saying a grateful goodbye. George is ninety-five percent sure that they will be at each other's throats the second he's out of sight.

“Thank you so much." He tells them, trying to convey just how grateful he is for the help. "You guys saved my ass.”

“We're glad we could help.” Carwood gives him a smile and offers a hand to shake through his rolled-down window.

George tries to keep his mouth shut and stop himself from butting into other people's business, but these two remind him of Gene. How he looks after his loved ones, how fierce he gets when he's worried. George learnt it through trial and error that it's better to let Gene help, if that's what reassures him. “Hey Carwood.”

“Hm?”

George tips his chin in Ron's direction. “You gotta let him take care of you.”

Carwood glances at Ron, who still refuses to acknowledge them, and strokes his back. There's no answer, but Carwood's smile widens. "Thanks, George. Merry Christmas."

George winks, raises his pint of ice cream, then backs away from the car.

The apartment is dark and quiet when he opens the front door. He looks at the clock above it and sees that it's almost ten thirty now, which means that Gene is either frantic with worry or he passed out on the couch. Taking a deep breath, George tiptoes into the living room, but he finds it empty. He glances back - but no, Gene's coat is there, so he hasn't left.

"Gene?" He whispers and pushes the bedroom door open. It creaks.

"George?" Gene gasps, jolting awake by the sounds of it. He gets up from the bed and shuffles over to George, rubbing his eyes. His hair is flat on one side. "I'm sorry, I tried to wait up… Are you okay?"

George squares his shoulders and raises that goddamn ice cream, mock-serious. "My dearest, I chanced the perilous journey through blistering cold and empty shelves, risking life and limb to find you the best product of the land -"

Gene's deep laugh cuts his speech short, but he doesn't mind it because a second later, Gene's lips are on his and his sleepy warmth seeps through George's clothes. Although his Christmas Eve didn't quite go according to plan, George does get his cuddles in the end.

_~End~_


End file.
